


Higher Claim

by tempus_teapot (dreadnot)



Series: In the Strangest Places [13]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M, in the strangest places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:19:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/tempus_teapot





	Higher Claim

“I found Morrigan.”

Those three words hung in the air with a weight that only a few people in all of Thedas could understand. Zevran was willing to lay odds that the only two in Antiva were in this very room.

As the new Guildmaster of the Antivan Crows, Zevran had cause to know that this office –his office - was also secure enough to keep this secret within its walls, safe from spying eyes and listening ears. Considering what Dal was telling him, Zevran wanted this kept just between them.

Months had passed since they had last seen each other, but still they stood on opposite sides of Zevran’s massive marble-topped desk.

“And I killed the Guildmaster.” Zevran spread his hands to indicate his office and the palazzo that housed it.

Dal inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I’m relieved.”

Zevran laughed, his humor unfeigned but black to someone who knew him well. “All it does is change which Crows want me dead and why. It is a grand tradition, advancement through dead men’s shoes.”

He came around the desk, but settled himself with his hip against its edge. It wasn’t the warm –naked –reunion he had imagined, but naked was not yet entirely ruled out. First the important matters had to be dealt with.

“ Does she yet live?”

Dal didn’t cut his eyes away when he nodded. “As does the child.”

Careful phrasing. All of Zevran’s training kicked in to keep his expression open and interested even while wheels turned behind his eyes.

The child, not my child.

“Is it an old god incarnate?” He tried to think of a way to turn the question into a joke, but there was no humor to be found in that particular detail.

“He is something.” Dal was trying to be as careful and circumspect as Zevran was. Was this what the future would be like for them? The thought made Zevran’s heart ache.

Traitorous muscle. It had no say here. Only it did, and he knew it.

“And his mother?”

Dal twitched one shoulder in a half-shrug, and again the traitor in Zevran’s chest clenched with pain. Weak, weak, this man made him weak.

No. He was stronger with his lover than without, but Dal made him vulnerable.

“She is her mother’s daughter,” Dal said, closing the space between them. “And the child will be his mother’s son.”

Dal raised his hand to brush the backs of his fingers down Zevran’s tattoo. After months spent under constant threat, Zevran tensed reflexively before leaning into the touch.

“It is I who should be seducing you,” he said, turning his head to kiss Dal’s palm. “Yet here you are, in my office, seducing the Master of the Crows.”

Dal shook his head and bent to press the lightest of kisses to Zevran’s lips. “No, I am telling the man I love that I have missed him.” He kissed Zevran again. “And that I am back.” Another kiss. “And that nothing, not the Crows, not the Wardens, not even an elder god can take you from my heart.”

He pulled a well-worn, much-creased letter from his sleeve, unfolding it to show Zevran his own familiar handwriting. “Now, I want you tell me about those naughty dreams of yours.”

Zevran looked up from the letter feeling that his heart was no longer a traitor but his dearest ally for the first time in his life.

“As my beloved wishes….”


End file.
